http://cargocollective.com Lunar Journal Tue, 14 May 2013 02:54:26 +0000 http://cargocollective.com en http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/We-tell-ourselves-stories-in-order-to-live http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/We-tell-ourselves-stories-in-order-to-live Tue, 14 May 2013 02:54:26 +0000 Lunar Journal 5610108 - Joan Didion <img src="http://payload165.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5610108/B004111-R1-19-5_905.jpg" width="905" height="610" width_o="1800" height_o="1215" src_o="http://payload165.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5610108/B004111-R1-19-5_o.jpg" data-mid="30262674" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload165.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5610108/FH010015_905.jpg" width="905" height="610" width_o="1600" height_o="1080" src_o="http://payload165.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5610108/FH010015_o.jpg" data-mid="30263753" border="0" align="left"/> Today I walk down the corridor towards the doctor’s surgery and peer into one of the rooms. It contains a large human sized capsule. Beams of topaz light pour through its cracks. I can make out a human figure standing inside whilst the light washes over them. I believe it is some kind of x-ray machine, one that emits a powerful light which can penetrate beneath the skin. This, I thought, is a sensation that I have felt when reading a good story. A Dutch man once told me ‘be careful what you choose to read, books can be like friends, equally as contaminating.’ While the doctor draws my blood I return to the world of stories inside my head. By doing this I escape the pain. He fills three vials with a thick ruby substance and labels them with my name. They look like potions. I feel both mortalized and enchanted by the process. My arm aches and yet I am reminded of our ability to alchemize an experience, to use stories in order to move beyond reality and enter into the myth. - Joan Didion Today I walk down the corridor towards the doctor’s surgery and peer into one of the rooms. It contains a large human sized capsule. Beams of... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/The-oftener-I-touched-reality-the-harder-I-bounced-back-to-the-world http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/The-oftener-I-touched-reality-the-harder-I-bounced-back-to-the-world Tue, 30 Apr 2013 03:05:04 +0000 Lunar Journal 5515254 - Henry Miller <img src="http://payload160.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5515254/B007467-R1-08-28A_905.jpg" width="905" height="610" width_o="1600" height_o="1080" src_o="http://payload160.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5515254/B007467-R1-08-28A_o.jpg" data-mid="29704937" border="0" align="left"/> Osaka, Japan 2010. I walk out of my apartment block and turn down a damp alleyway. Men snigger and holler at me, their eyes slide down my skin like sweat, lingering at my thighs. I remember hearing in a movie once that our fear of offending someone is often stronger than the fear of death. I make eye contact. Not afraid to show my disdain. There is a feeling of moral dystopia in the city. Dark undertones. Even the buildings are perverted. Their posture is cracked and crumbled, ashamed. The smog hangs heavily. Beyond the abandoned amusement parks and seeping concrete walls, beyond the debasement of the suburbs, at the heart of Osaka, is an immaculate city square; equipped with shiny phallic shaped buildings that are encrusted with metallic windows which mirror the pale sky. Everything looks hyperreal. The people have become caricatures of themselves, marching in time with the monotony of a work-life. Left, right. It is these moments in which the world appears unrecognizable to me. It is these moments, which seize me and hurl me out of my reality and into unimaginable worlds. Worlds of utter wonder. Worlds that exist beyond the mold-ridden concrete walls. And though I realize these worlds are illusory, I will continue to retreat into them. - Henry Miller Osaka, Japan 2010. I walk out of my apartment block and turn down a damp alleyway. Men snigger and holler at me, their eyes slide down my skin... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/My-life-is-my-art-and-my-experiences-strained-through-time-depositing http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/My-life-is-my-art-and-my-experiences-strained-through-time-depositing Tue, 16 Apr 2013 20:59:17 +0000 Lunar Journal 5356594 - Mati Klarwein <img src="http://payload152.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5356594/A008916-R1-07-15_905.jpg" width="905" height="1340" width_o="1215" height_o="1800" src_o="http://payload152.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5356594/A008916-R1-07-15_o.jpg" data-mid="28876989" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload152.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5356594/A008916-R1-06-16_905.jpg" width="905" height="1340" width_o="1215" height_o="1800" src_o="http://payload152.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5356594/A008916-R1-06-16_o.jpg" data-mid="28877045" border="0" align="left"/> I embed myself in human life. Everything else is secondary. No story I tell will ever amount to the magical realism that I have felt in living. I do not remember at which moment I decided that life would be my art, perhaps there never was one. But since then even the dullest of moments have contained a tremor of intensity, one that I can only assimilate to the energy that is conducted before a storm. When the condensation of living becomes too thick, my writing pours down into the world, creating a wet and luminous substance that I can only hope will cling to those it touches. - Mati Klarwein I embed myself in human life. Everything else is secondary. No story I tell will ever amount to the magical realism that I have felt in living.... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Take-a-holiday-from-reality-whenever-you-like-and-come-back-without http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Take-a-holiday-from-reality-whenever-you-like-and-come-back-without Fri, 01 Mar 2013 01:20:07 +0000 Lunar Journal 5086966 - Aldous Huxley <img src="http://payload139.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5086966/grreeeeen_905.jpg" width="905" height="610" width_o="1600" height_o="1080" src_o="http://payload139.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/5086966/grreeeeen_o.jpg" data-mid="27288681" border="0" align="left"/> February 2012, Tallum, a small beach on the coast of Mexico. I watch the sun rise, a new day the colour of orange peels. Waves lick at the sand, dragging it back to bed for one last fuck. Last night I stayed up playing dominoes with an old Mayan man. He had kind eyes. Distant eyes. A drunk. Afterwards I fell to sleep in a bed that hung suspended from the roof. Now when I close my eyes I am still rocking. I wonder if the vertigo subsides in a place like this. Not so bad, to be rocked to sleep. Rhythmic. I get up off the ground and sway over to the white wash. Still drunk. Rhythmic. Everything is fine near the sea. It has a redemptive quality. I swim. The scab on my tattoo is fresh. I wonder if the ink will smudge. The water is warm and frothy. I take my top off and watch my breasts float in the water. Loss of gravity, the sea makes you lighter. Too light to dwell on thoughts. In Tallum there is no time, people live by the sun. Some never leave. Some have taken a heroic dose of holiday. They remain in a humid reverie. There are no wrinkles on their skin, no smudged ink, just distant eyes. Their purpose is the maintenance of a neutral existence. They have lost the appetite for intensity. I will leave soon. The vertigo will subside and my skin will loose its luster. I will comb the sand granules from my hair and tend to the blisters on my feet. I will muse over days of sunstroke and Tallum will become a distant mirage. I will come back to reality without so much as a headache or a mythology, back to a bed that lays flat on the ground, sunken in gravity. Back to a life and a love that does not care for maintenance but hungers for intensity. - Aldous Huxley February 2012, Tallum, a small beach on the coast of Mexico. I watch the sun rise, a new day the colour of orange peels. Waves lick at the sand,... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/We-live-on-the-edge-of-the-miraculous http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/We-live-on-the-edge-of-the-miraculous Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:36 +0000 Lunar Journal 3242193 - Henry Miller <img src="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3242193/tumblr_lsgt5thpDk1qzcab6.jpg" width="600" height="914" width_o="600" height_o="914" src_o="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3242193/tumblr_lsgt5thpDk1qzcab6_o.jpg" data-mid="16606391" border="0" align="left"/> - Henry Miller http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Out-on-the-edge-you-see-all-kinds-of-things-you-can-t-see-from-the http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Out-on-the-edge-you-see-all-kinds-of-things-you-can-t-see-from-the Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:34 +0000 Lunar Journal 3242856 - Kurt Vonnegut Artwork by Callum Mitchell <img src="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3242856/SCAN0712_905.jpg" width="905" height="1253" width_o="2048" height_o="2835" src_o="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3242856/SCAN0712_o.jpg" data-mid="16610295" border="0" align="left"/> Callum Mitchell is one of those freaks of nature born only when mother and father strike an alchemical balance. He speaks fluent French, plays piano, he can read your astrology and tell you the ins and outs of Ayurvedic medicine. Callum won't tell anyone how he made these prints but it looks like he cracked open an atom and let its cosmic yoke bleed over the page. He is a potent creator and I look forward to following his ginger bread trail. - Kurt Vonnegut Artwork by Callum Mitchell Callum Mitchell is one of those freaks of nature born only when mother and father strike an alchemical balance. He... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Music-is-a-tonic-for-the-pineal-gland-Music-isn-t-Bach-or-Beethoven http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Music-is-a-tonic-for-the-pineal-gland-Music-isn-t-Bach-or-Beethoven Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:32 +0000 Lunar Journal 3243197 - Henry Miller Sound by Young Magic Artwork by Leif Podhajsky <img src="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3243197/Maps_Cassette_Cover_905_905.jpg" width="905" height="906" width_o="905" height_o="906" src_o="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3243197/Maps_Cassette_Cover_905_o.jpg" data-mid="16612333" border="0" align="left"/> Young Magic’s Maps tape will move through you like a fever. It is a beat disease. Turn up your headphones and feel your temperature rise. Prepare the rockets for lift off into psychonaut territory. This is not your average trip. This will rewire your listening mechanics and leave you drooling like your fresh out of the electric chair. Strung between west African drums, chanting and reverb there is a message here, listen close. Equally as dark as they are transcendental, Young Magic will melt you into the gutter then take you to the stars. - Henry Miller Sound by Young Magic Artwork by Leif Podhajsky Young Magic’s Maps tape will move through you like a fever. It is a beat disease. Turn up your... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Behind-the-visible-are-chains-on-chains-of-conscious-beings-who-have http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Behind-the-visible-are-chains-on-chains-of-conscious-beings-who-have Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:29 +0000 Lunar Journal 3248242 - W.B. Yeats <img src="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3248242/LUNAR MOOD_905.jpg" width="905" height="707" width_o="2000" height_o="1564" src_o="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3248242/LUNAR MOOD_o.jpg" data-mid="16641198" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3248242/LUNAR MOOD 2_905.jpg" width="905" height="680" width_o="2048" height_o="1540" src_o="http://payload47.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3248242/LUNAR MOOD 2_o.jpg" data-mid="16641200" border="0" align="left"/> I found these prints at a market stall on the weekend. There was a man with a crooked smile selling looseleaf pages and empty vials by the crater. He had eyes like clouded amethyst, myth tangled into the rough of his beard. I wanted to take his photo but I thought I’d capture a secret that belonged to him. Alchemy, the first theme of Lunar, is a homage to this man and to all those who are re-enchanting the world. - W.B. Yeats I found these prints at a market stall on the weekend. There was a man with a crooked smile selling looseleaf pages and empty vials by the... http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Other-echoes-inhabit-the-garden-shall-we-follow http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Other-echoes-inhabit-the-garden-shall-we-follow Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:15 +0000 Lunar Journal 3274493 - T.S. Elliot <img src="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-15-151 2_905.jpg" width="905" height="1357" width_o="1400" height_o="2100" src_o="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-15-151 2_o.jpg" data-mid="16786760" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-12-121 2_905.jpg" width="905" height="603" width_o="2048" height_o="1365" src_o="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-12-121 2_o.jpg" data-mid="16786714" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-16-161 3_905.jpg" width="905" height="603" width_o="2048" height_o="1365" src_o="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-16-161 3_o.jpg" data-mid="16786790" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-18-181_905.jpg" width="905" height="603" width_o="2048" height_o="1365" src_o="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-18-181_o.jpg" data-mid="16786856" border="0" align="left"/> <img src="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-08-081 2_905.jpg" width="905" height="603" width_o="2048" height_o="1365" src_o="http://payload48.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3274493/Negative0-08-081 2_o.jpg" data-mid="16786675" border="0" align="left"/> Pisaq, Peru. Also known as The Sacred Valley. - T.S. Elliot Pisaq, Peru. Also known as The Sacred Valley. http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/Art-is-still-doubly-a-servant-to-higher-aims-no-doubt-on-the-one-hand http://cargocollective.com/lunarjournal/following/lunarjournal/Art-is-still-doubly-a-servant-to-higher-aims-no-doubt-on-the-one-hand Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:14:03 +0000 Lunar Journal 3282294 - Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel <img src="http://payload49.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3282294/johncage_905.jpg" width="825" height="1024" width_o="825" height_o="1024" src_o="http://payload49.cargocollective.com/1/7/229391/3282294/johncage_o.jpg" data-mid="16830758" border="0" align="left"/> John Cage explored the no-space in music. After dabbling in writing, architecture and fine art he surrendered his life to sound. Cage was an inventor and he will be remembered for exploring musics equivalent to the Bermuda triangle - silence. For years he studied under the epic Austrian composer, Schoenberg, who insisted that his lack of harmony would make it impossible for him to write music. Schoenberg said, You'll come to a wall you won't be able to get through, and Cage answered, I'll beat my head against that wall. This rebellion against structural harmony led him to discover what he later coined as micro‑macrocosmic rhythmic structure. A rhythmic structure that could be expressed with any sounds, including noises, or it could be expressed not as sound and silence but as stillness and movement in dance. Soon after, Cage was introduced to the whirling void of Zen Buddhism, particularly the teachings of Gira Sarabhai, an Indian singer and tabla player. Cage's music became the incarnation of Eastern philosophy, a melting pot of humor, intransigence, and detachment. As a result, the meaning of sound and expression was deconstructed. His music opened up an infinite portal, a loop hole in histories rigid wall of sound... Don't ever let them tell you your just another brick in the wall. - Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel John Cage explored the no-space in music. After dabbling in writing, architecture and fine art he surrendered his life to sound....